Surrender to the Earl (14 page)

“Don’t worry, she was the only one to take ill, and she is recovering well, just still too weak to perform her usual activities.”

“Then who’s your unofficial secretary?” Blythe asked.

Audrey hesitated. “Lord Knightsbridge graciously offered his assistance.”

She felt Blythe lean forward, heard the sound of the door opening, and then the cool breeze and the sun on her face.

“If you need your shawl . . .” Audrey began.

“No, I’ll be fine.” Blythe’s voice seemed a bit strained. “This man seems too good to be true.”

“I sometimes think that myself,” Audrey admitted.

“I talked to people in London about him.” Before Audrey could respond, she hastily said, “Oh, look, you have so many azaleas and rhododendrons.”

“But not in bloom at this time of the year. Why did we really come out here, Blythe? Was it simply to be free of Lord Knightsbridge?”

“Don’t you want to know what people are saying?”

Audrey hesitated. “No. Gossip is never a good—”

“Gossip is unfounded rumors. Facts are . . . facts. Here, sit down. There’s a bench right behind you.”

Audrey felt it with the backs of her knees and sat, letting go of Blythe’s arm. “Why do you care who I marry, as long as I’m no longer embarrassing you? Or will my being a countess embarrass you even more?”

She wasn’t going to be a countess, of course, but she wanted to hear the truth from Blythe’s own lips.

“You’ve been used by a man before,” Blythe said coolly. “I didn’t think you wanted that again.”

“He’s not using me—in fact, I—” She stopped, biting her lip at what she’d almost revealed.

“You what?”

“We have not set a date, Blythe. I am being patient and learning all I can, and at the same time, I’m enjoying the first freedom of my life. Why are you trying to disrupt that?”

“Disrupt—I’m not!” She sounded honestly bewildered. “But just like Lord Knightsbridge told you about the servants’ treatment of me—because
you
wanted to know—I have to tell you this. He’s been gone almost his entire adult life, Audrey, and no one really knows him.”

The wind whipped a curl free, and Audrey caught it behind her ear. “But I’m learning to know him. Doesn’t that count? Maybe I’m the only one who wants to.” She thought of his kisses, and his honesty about wanting her as a lover. My heavens, he could have his pick of any woman. She didn’t have to see his face to know that he desired her—

But she was conveniently available to him, and he’d already admitted he wanted to help her. She didn’t want to send him away.

“How can you forget about his partner who killed himself?” Blythe demanded. “Did you ask him?”

“No,” Audrey admitted, “not yet. It is so very painful, I imagine.”

“Maybe it isn’t.”

“Blythe,” she said her sister’s name sharply. “Thank you for your concern, but I am handling everything as I see fit.”

“Including marrying a man you don’t love—again.”

Audrey stiffened. “If an earl asked you to marry him, you’d jump at the offer. I know you too well.”

Blythe said nothing.

“Me taking a risk is different, though, isn’t it?”

More silence.

“Let’s walk, shall we? And we can pretend everything between us is fine.”

They walked down a path, and Audrey estimated they were heading toward the pond.

“There’s a man in your gardens,” Blythe said at last.

“Mr. Sanford, the groundskeeper. He is married to the housekeeper.”

“Your little servant family, that’s right. I imagine he must be a helpful fellow. He’s following us about in case we need assistance.”

And Audrey felt a chill that had nothing to do with the approach of winter.

Chapter 14

T
hey were called back inside by the arrival of another guest, and Audrey wouldn’t have been surprised if it was another member of her family. Instead, it was the vicar’s wife awaiting her in the drawing room.

“You already went into the village?” Blythe asked Audrey with surprise evident in her voice as they walked through the house.

“I did. People went out of their way to be kind.” She did not say that it had been Robert’s idea to go so quickly, and he who escorted her.

In the entrance hall, Audrey spoke to Francis about having tea sent in, and then without holding her sister’s arm, entered the drawing room.

“Mrs. Blake,” a woman’s voice intoned in a nasal manner, “it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Audrey could hear the interest the woman didn’t bother to hide. “Mrs. Warton, it is surely my own pleasure. I enjoyed my conversation with your husband several days ago. May I introduce my sister, Miss Blythe Collins?”

“How do you do?” Blythe asked.

“Quite fine, thank you,” said Mrs. Warton.

“A tea tray will be arriving shortly,” Audrey said. “Would you care to sit down?”

“I am already seated, Mrs. Blake,” Mrs. Warton said, sounding almost immediately as if she regretted the words.

And Audrey liked her for it. “You’ll have to excuse me. I make those mistakes often.”

“If you do not mind my saying, my friends in Hedgerley were speaking quite openly of their delight in meeting you,” Mrs. Warton explained.

“People don’t know what to expect of a blind woman,” Audrey admitted. “Isn’t that true, Blythe?”

She knew she caught her sister off guard, and felt glad and guilty at the same time. Why should she feel guilty? Blythe was always worried about what people would say if they took Audrey into their own village.

“It is true,” Blythe murmured, adding nothing else.

“Some can be so sheltered,” Mrs. Warton said. “It is good to shake things up a bit.”

Audrey’s smile widened. She already liked this woman.

“Ladies?”

She heard Robert’s voice coming from the doorway. “Lord Knightsbridge, I am so glad you could join us. Allow me to introduce the vicar’s wife, Mrs. Warton.”

“A pleasure, my lord,” the woman breathed, her voice dipping as she most likely sank into a curtsy. She sounded both awed and amazed, as if she hadn’t quite believed that the earl had graced their village.

The tea arrived at that moment, and Audrey took her time serving everyone. She knew she was on display, as she would always be, and didn’t mind the attention.

“Mrs. Warton,” Audrey began, “I mentioned to your husband that I would enjoy becoming involved in philanthropic endeavors in the village. Can you tell me what programs the church hosts?”

Mrs. Warton enlightened them for long minutes about the Female Aid Society and the Soup Distribution Society. Audrey wondered if Robert was nodding off, although he asked polite questions about the scope of their charities, and Mrs. Warton’s opinion on how best to expand their coverage through other villages near his estate. There was even a group who knitted for newborn babies, something Audrey could do to give her a purpose in the evenings after she’d ended things with Robert, and she was alone.

As Mrs. Warton departed, she promised to invite Audrey to her next women’s society meeting.

Audrey sat back down, satisfied.

“You will soon be behaving like an old married woman,” Blythe commented dourly.

“Doing works of charity?” Audrey said in surprise. “I’ll enjoy helping my new parish. I wish I could have done more when I still lived at home.”

Blythe ignored that. “I have letters to write before dinner. If you’ll excuse me, Audrey, Lord Knightsbridge.”

And then she was alone with Robert, and that morning’s scandalous suggestion about an affair might as well have been shouted in the room again, for how much it had dwelt on and off in her mind through the day. She felt the sofa sag as he sat down beside her.

“Now don’t get all stiff with me, Audrey,” he said, his tone full of amusement. “
I
don’t think you’re behaving like an old married woman.”

She sighed. “I do not care what my sister thinks. She does not have to live here and get to know people. This is the best way.”

“She’s used to Society and balls and dinners.”

“Exactly.”

“Which she left behind to come here.”

“It
is
curious,” Audrey murmured, then added even more softly, “She might hear us.”

“Then I’ll close the door.”

He left her side so quickly, all she could say was, “But Robert—”

“Engaged, remember?”

She heard the lock click, and regretted the sharp little thrill that danced its way right up through her body. He was going to try to convince her to be his lover again—how would he do it?

But instead of romantic persuasion, he said, “Mr. Drayton stopped by while you were in the garden. I asked him about the missing ledgers, and he swore they were always in your study, and that he hadn’t accidentally taken them.”

“That doesn’t help us,” she said glumly.

“He seemed . . . reluctant to discuss all of this, which I found unusual.”

“Perhaps because Rose Cottage isn’t yours?”

He chuckled. “I am an earl, Audrey, and engaged to you. Of course he would discuss it with me.”

“Of course,” she answered dryly.

“He went on about several new tenant openings, and the autumn activity on the farms, but . . . I felt like he was distracting me.”

“How strange,” she said, now thoroughly distracted by the mystery herself.

“I admit, he might have felt defensive, as if I were questioning him, when really, I was simply trying to get to the bottom of this mystery. He showed no hesitation about letting me peruse his copy of the most recent ledger, and I saw nothing to make me suspicious about the last few months. But of course, maybe the real ledger and the copy are a little different.”

“Did he know you suspected that?” she asked.

“No. I have no cause to believe foul of him, and he’s done excellent work these last few years with the estate.”

“I imagine you let him know you quite admired his dedication and service,” she said, hiding a smile.

“It’s always important to praise your men.”

“Your soldiers?” she teased.

“He works for you, hence, he’s quite like a soldier. Praise for a subordinate was not something I saw growing up.”

Smiling, she said, “A subordinate—you mean a servant.”

“Or man of business, but yes. My father believed in authority and dominance, not in praising people for the work they were supposed to do regardless.”

“And you saw that in yourself,” she reminded him, feeling Blythe’s curiosity as her own.

“I did. I am grateful that the army showed me another way.”

The sofa dipped a little more, and then she felt his breath warm against her ear as he softly spoke.

“I could praise your beauty,” he murmured.

She shivered, excitement like a fluttering bird longing to be free. “That is not an accomplishment I can claim as my own, so no need to praise me.”

“I can praise your talents.”

He lifted her hand and slowly removed her glove, each tug making her tremble the harder.

When he had her fingers bare, he kissed each one. “These fingers caress the piano keys lovingly, bringing forth beautiful music.”

She laughed softly. “I have not even had a chance to practice since we came here.”

“And the piano stands quite forlorn. Do not ignore that part of yourself.”

“I must be blushing by now.”

“Pink cheeks, the brilliant shine in your golden eyes, that comes from you.”

He placed a soft kiss on her neck, just beneath her ear, and with a gasp, she bent her head to offer more to him. Her lips had been so sensitive to him—it was amazing that even her neck prickled with sensation at his touch. When he gently bit her earlobe, she shuddered.

He took her face in his hands and tilted her toward him. She was ready for his mouth this time, and enjoyed the masterful way his tongue explored her mouth, then met her own. She gasped and moaned, then found herself slowly falling backward on the sofa as he leaned over her. They continued urgent kisses, while his hand moved from her waist and slowly up her bodice, cupping her breast through the corset, such a scandalous thing.

She enjoyed the naughtiness a moment too long, then broke the kiss with a gasp. “It is almost time for dinner. A servant could come looking for us any moment.”

He pressed kisses down her throat, dipping his tongue in the hollow at its base. “I locked the door.”

“But that is so suspicious.”

“We are engaged—”

“We are not!”

“Then let us be lovers.”

“No, please, I cannot think about such things now.”

He rose away from her, drawing her back upright by both hands.

“My glove?” she asked, feeling for it all around her.

“On the floor.” He put it into her hands. “I have not lost hope that you will change your mind.”

“I cannot tell you what to think,” she said shakily, rising to her feet and then catching the back of the nearby chair to steady herself.

Putting his arm around her waist from behind, he pulled her up against him and whispered into her hair, “Your body wants me.”

“Then thank goodness my mind rules my body.”

He chuckled, then released her. “I will leave you to your sister’s company this evening, as I have an early meeting tomorrow.”

“You will not come?”

“Is that regret I hear?”

“I—I only wish to plan my schedule.”

“Liar,” he whispered, and kissed her cheek. “I will come to you, but I don’t know when.”

“You are busy, Robert. I do not need to be coddled.”

“I have taken Molly’s place, and I will not let you down.”

“I do have letters to write . . .”

“My tutor used to claim I had excellent penmanship, probably far superior to your sister.”

“I would never ask Blythe to write my letters.” And that seemed so sad to her.

He must have realized it, for he said nothing for a moment.

“Have a good evening, Audrey.”

And then he was gone, and the room seemed so empty without him. She tugged her glove back on, buttoning it at the wrist, trying not to think of his mouth there. Oh, she had to stop this longing.

She considered the piano, so neglected, the perfect thing to occupy her mind. Seating herself on the bench, she lifted the cover and played several chords. The instrument wasn’t exactly in tune, but close enough. She started playing, and lost herself in the beauty of such pure, blissful sound. She didn’t know how long she played, but when at last she paused between songs, she heard soft clapping.

“As beautiful as always,” Blythe said.

Audrey heard honesty rather than jealousy, and smiled. “Thank you. Before he left, Robert mentioned I had not played since we arrived.”

“And it’s obvious, because as I came downstairs, Mrs. Sanford and both her children were standing in the hall, entranced.”

“Oh.” Audrey bent her head, surprised. Music had always separated Blythe and her.

“And then I stepped inside, and for just a moment, I saw you as others must when you play, because it seemed as if you were not blind.” And then in a contemplative voice, “I have no real memory of that.”

“You were but two when we both took ill.”

“I remember being very, very hot.”

“I, as well. What else do you remember?”

Blythe said nothing for a moment, and Audrey wondered if she’d gone too far. Her sister was always a woman who lived for the future, and what it might hold for her.

“Nothing,” Blythe said woodenly. “I was two, as you said.”

But for a moment, Audrey thought she’d been about to say something else.

W
hen Robert arrived at Rose Cottage midmorning the next day, Francis told him that Audrey and her sister had gone to Hedgerley. Robert couldn’t be surprised that Blythe would need something to do. Why hadn’t she escorted her sister to their own village? Audrey seemed to want to put it behind her and start anew, but Robert wasn’t so forgiving. He worried that Miss Collins would fall into her old family patterns and try to control Audrey’s every move.

Gray clouds overhead threatened rain, but that didn’t stop him from leaving Rose Cottage. As he rode down the country lane, the dark clouds scudding away, he remembered the sweet smell of Audrey’s neck, the blush that had swept her face and down beneath her bodice. He’d longed to explore, though one touch of the forbidden had made her stop. But he’d gone a step further, and if he’d been patient . . .

He urged his horse into a trot, the better to put such rousing memories aside.

He was almost relieved when it was difficult to find the sisters. No crowds gathered somewhere to stare, no fuss being made. But the first time he’d escorted Audrey there, he’d seen the looks, heard the whispers, and worried that it would be far worse when he wasn’t there to deflect it.

He found the women at the millinery, where Miss Collins was trying on hats, looking in a mirror and discussing a purchase with the fawning owner, an older woman corseted into too tight a gown.

As Robert closed the door behind him, he saw Audrey seated on a stool, her face lifted to the sunlight streaming between parting clouds through the plate-glass windows. Her fingers touched a selection of ribbons.

She cocked her head toward the door, and as he walked toward her, her expression brightened. “Lord Knightsbridge.”

It wasn’t a question.

He grinned and lifted her gloved hand to kiss the back. “Mrs. Blake.”

She blushed prettily and drew her hand back as if their affection should be private. “I am surprised you joined our ladies’ shopping expedition.”

He glanced at her sister, who gave him a polite smile, then returned to the adoration of her mirror. To Audrey, he said, “I was concerned Miss Collins might fall back on old habits in the village and forget all about you. Is she helping you to select a bonnet, too?”

“She asked, and I said she could go first.”

He released the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Very well, then.” It seemed positively unmanly to be concerned that a woman might not be able to shop.